He Got Every Question Wrong on Our 10th Anniversary

For our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband took me on a couples'-compatibility challenge show.

The producers said that if we got all ten questions right, they'd throw us a second wedding ceremony, live on the spot.

First question: what was my favorite color.

He answered, "Blue."

I held up my answer board. It read White.

Down in the audience, his first love, Bertha Jenner, sat in a blue dress, smiling as she waved her blue phone in the air.

Second question: what was I allergic to.

He answered, "Mango."

Another answer that fit Bertha perfectly.

Third question: what was I most afraid of.

He answered, "Thunder."

But what I was truly afraid of was fire.

Ten years ago, I pulled him out of a burning car, and ever since, fire was the thing I feared most.

Of the ten questions about me, he didn't get a single one right.

Yet every answer belonged to Bertha.

The host asked, half-joking, "Mr. Weiss, did you bring the wrong wife?"

He glanced at Bertha and gave an easy laugh.

"Ten years married. Who keeps track of little things like that?"

The final segment was writing a letter to ourselves, ten years from now.

Ned Weiss bent his head and wrote with great care.

I slid off the wedding ring I'd worn for ten years and wrote two words on the page.

Divorce.

——

The host smiled, smoothing it over for us. "Mr. Weiss works too hard, that's all. Looks like he really does need to spend more time with his wife."

Ned picked up the microphone, his tone gentle. "Honestly, getting the questions right doesn't matter. I brought her on this show because she's a huge fan of yours."

A wave of envious gasps rose from the audience.

I looked at him and said nothing.

Two weeks earlier, Ned had come home holding the taping notice.

He said he'd poured a lot of money into the show to win me this spot, then lowered his head and asked, "Happy now? After we finish taping, we'll go to the restaurant for our anniversary."

"And while we're riding the buzz, we'll set up a foundation. Isn't this exactly the kind of thing you love doing?"

I'd held that notice in my hand and laughed for a long time.

Then Bertha's call came through out of nowhere.

She said the moving company had bailed on her last minute and she couldn't get everything packed alone.

Ned soothed her with a few words, then looked up at me. "I'll go help her after taping. We'll make up the dinner another day. We already did the show together for you, so it's fine, right?"

He asked it gently, but his finger was already tapping open the restaurant's reservation page.

By the time the cancellation-confirmed message popped up, I hadn't even answered yet.

When the taping wrapped, I walked out alone.

The host came toward me, and seeing me by myself, he paused. "Mrs. Weiss? Mr. Weiss didn't walk out with you?"

I forced out a smile. "Something urgent came up at his company. He left ahead of me."

The words had barely left my mouth when Ned came back.

The host immediately teased, smiling, "Mr. Weiss, running back this fast? Can't bear to part with your wife, so you came back for her?"

Ned's gaze landed on my bag. "Give me back that blue box I just handed you."

I froze for a second. "Wasn't that my tenth-anniversary gift?"

Ned looked at me as if the question were pointless. "The host suddenly brought up a gift back there. I couldn't very well say I didn't have one."

"That's the housewarming present I'm giving Bertha."

I gripped the strap of my bag and said nothing.

Ned lowered his voice. "Don't make a scene at a time like this. Your gift, I'll get you one later when I have time."

Later.

When I have time.

Those two words, he'd said them too many times over the years.

What year was it that he'd stopped preparing an anniversary gift ahead of time?